My World of Parkinsonian Delights

Despite Current Strife, Dreamland Jamaica is Peaceful

They’re having some strife in Jamaica these days, of which I knew nothing before this morning.  But in Dreamland, Jamaica is peaceful.

Somehow, Gail, T.J. and I drove down to Jamaica last night.  I don’t remember how, but I know we got there by car.  We were staying at a semi-Ritzy hotel, and I met the guy who owns the Class A minor league farm club of the Boston Red Sox, whose team happened to PLAY in Jamaica.  He thought I would be a good candidate for a job opening he had — which job, I don’t remember — but to sweeten the pot I told him that I used to do PA announcing for the Clinton (Iowa) Lumberkings, so I could help out there, as well.

Turns out there were two other candidates for the job (whatever it was), but one was eliminated for lack of experience.  That left me and this other guy who lived there already, so I figured he was gonna get the job regardless.

T.J. was a kid again, and I invited him to go looking for seashells with me.  He didn’t want to, but Gail did.  And the clear, calm water held millions of them.  Many were still alive, others were just empty shells.  Gail found a HUGE clam shell and wondered if it was still alive.  I opened it, and the thing inside moved, so we decided to leave it alone.

Then we were back in the lounge near the hotel lobby and a thunderstorm rolled in.  I waited until it was over and went back out into the water.  There were millions of “keeper” shells, but then I noticed a kid who seemed to be in trouble out in the deeper water.  I made my way to him, and he apologized because he wasn’t really in trouble, he was just horsing around.  His dad told me that if I really wanted some GOOD seashells, they had stores on the strip in town.  I told him I preferred to find them myself.

Then Raven flapped her ears to wake up Gail and came over and bottle-nosed my bed in a “Come on, Dad!  We’re all getting up now!” sort of way.  Gail got up with Raven, I went right back to sleep and continued the dream.

I was in the restaurant at this hotel, and word came over the loudspeaker that “The Moody Blues” were playing in the lounge.  A bunch of people headed up to the lounge, but when we got there, it turns out that it was the FATHERS of the guys in “The Moody Blues” who were playing.  I turned to get back to my room, but by the elevator a woman and her family came out and got in my way.  I tried to get around them, but a bell hop with one of those luggage carriers blocked the way and nobody could move.

Then I woke up.  Got up.  Made coffee.

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